


Keep Us Sane

by scribblemyname



Series: Yuletide 2014 [1]
Category: The Unusuals
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Friendship, Gratuitous Coffee Drinking, Jason Walsh Can't Cook, Misses Clause Challenge, Secrets, Some Innuendo and Sexual Implications, Yuletide, established relationships - Freeform, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/scribblemyname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shraeger doesn't worry about Walsh's secrets any more, but sometimes they itch, just because he still shoots her that smug grin when she can't guess them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Us Sane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayachain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/gifts).



> So the request was for platonic Walsh and Shraeger with some idea of where are their personal boundaries after a while, friendship, and do they ever get asked if they've slept together. I had sooo much fun with this.
> 
> Thanks to lithiumlaughter for the beta!

"Do you honestly have nothing you want me to do if anything happens to you?"

Walsh looks at her puzzled for a minute over the rim of his coffee mug before he gets it and nearly "oh"s said coffee right out. He swallows. "You mean like throw out the Playboy in my locker at work?"

Shraeger just gives him that _look_. "Really?"

Walsh shrugs. He'd done that for Kowalski.

—

Shraeger doesn't worry about Walsh's secrets any more. Whatever dirty laundry he had besides the painful bit of backstory that sent him straight into the NYPD has thoroughly disappeared into the good cop, dispenser of advice, and annoyingly unflappable prankster of her current partner. She doesn't worry about his secrets, but sometimes they itch, just because he still shoots her that smug grin when she can't guess them.

"Do you really have a diary of fantasies?" Walsh asks while she's helping him decorate a tiny Christmas tree in the front of the diner.

He's trying to impress Beaumont, she thinks. His paltry collection of holiday cheer doesn't lend itself to another explanation, and she had to go buy most of the stuff they have laying out now.

She shakes her head, untangles a string of lights from her hair with a frown, and quips, "Nope. Finished that list with Davis and am working on a new one. He likes variation."

Walsh barks a laugh. "That's a good one, Shraeger."

She grins back and tosses the lights over his head.

—

He still can't cook and he still tries to feed her.

"I can't believe you haven't given yourself food poisoning yet," she gripes at him as she picks at the ad infinitum attempt to convince her his pancakes are decent.

"He actually did," Beaumont interjects between gulps of Walsh's horrendous coffee. "Remember last year when you were out sick for food poisoning?"

"That was dinner the night before, eating out at a restaurant," he protests, "not food I'd made."

He's suppressing a smile in spite of his words, and Beaumont just laughs indulgently.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself, hot stuff. I like the tree." She nods at Shraeger. "Had to be you."

"Well, somebody had to do it." Shraeger leans over and swipes an apple from Walsh's miniscule stash of fresh food.

"Hey, no, give that back. Shraeger…" Walsh is fast, but she is faster.

She shoots him a cheeky grin and takes a bite.

"Got you there," Beaumont tells him, siding unrepentantly with his partner.

He tosses the dishtowel in his hand over one shoulder and swipes Shraeger's plate back. "See if I feed you again."

"G—, please don't."

—

"So you two ever sleep together?" Jones from Vice asks Shraeger over drinks at the cop bar, leaning over with a lascivious look.

"Barbara. No." Shraeger coughs down the rest of her mouthful of beer. "He's my partner." Another cough. "I'm seeing someone."

"The accountant?" Jones asks, disappointment dripping from her sultry alto. "Your partner's actually pretty bangable."

Shraeger rolls her eyes and gathers up her napkins to toss in the can on her way out. _"He's_ seeing someone."

—

"Did you know in the average lifetime, a person will walk the equivalent of five times around the equator?"

Shraeger shifts in the passenger seat and keeps eyes on the camera store they're staking out. "Hey, Walsh."

"Huh?" He doesn't even look up from the paper.

"You wouldn't ever date a partner, would you?"

He looks up at that, eyebrows raised.

She gives him a look like, _'Well?'_

"Someone got a crush I need to know about?" His expression can't seem to decide between laughing it off and being downright suspicious.

"No. Just gossip." She scrunches up her nose in a frown and leans forward. "Hey. Door's opening."

They watch for a moment, then sigh.

False alarm. Someone tossed out the garbage, but no sign yet of the guy they're looking for.

"Is this hypothetical partner hot?"

"Walsh."

"Well," he says as if this is perfectly valid. "And is this hypothetical person single?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe."

Shraeger looks at him in surprise. "That's against regs," she protests incredulously.

"You brought it up." He shakes out his paper and frowns at it as he picks out his place. "But seriously, would you want to bring your relationship baggage to work? I mean, what if it blows up?"

She grimaces. It's not like she would want to date Walsh. He's a good guy and a good cop, but there are limits. She changes the subject. "Did you really hang up mistletoe in the guys' bathroom?"

"Now that'd be telling." He gives her that smug grin that makes her want to roll her eyes again.

—

She buys Beaumont a leash and a pair of handcuffs.

Beaumont shoots her a pleased and semi-surprised smile. "Oh, do I have plans for these."

—

"What'd you get her?" Walsh asks after Cole blushes red at the sight of him.

"He's probably just reacting to the results of your addition to the men's room." Two can play the don't tell game.

"The what?" Walsh gives her that innocent look that nobody in the entire world should ever believe for a second.

"Hey. Found our guy on a traffic camera."

"Let's see it."

They shift gears and get to work.

—

"Would you ever sleep with a coworker?" Casey asks Davis when she's curled up on his couch after a movie. She swipes the last piece of rugelach.

He sits up. "Do I need to be worried?"

She rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time in the week and shamelessly starts talking before she finishes swallowing. "What is it with guys? This is a purely hypothetical question."

"Okay," he says, drawing out the answer. She can practically see him thinking it through. "No, I would not. Good thing you're not managing trust funds."

"Hm. Technically, I'm your client," she points out, tapping his chest with one finger. "That's practically scandalous."

"Very scandalous. We should be in the papers."

She smiles and kisses him and lets somebody else wonder about dirty laundry for the rest of the night.

—

"If you ever die, I'm going to tell everyone you were an inveterate prankster with no higher aspirations in life." Shraeger hasn't even looked at Walsh yet. She's still staring at her _literally_ gift-wrapped desk.

Walsh just sips his coffee with that innocent expression that no one in the world who has ever met him would believe for one minute and doesn't miss a beat. "Make sure you show them the trophies."


End file.
